About three weeks ago I spent a good two, three hours of my life scanning about 80 piece of paper. Not for my health, but for our records. Various official looking forms with convoluted, Legalese names that make an English major cringe:
“Applicant’s Statement of Attestation,” “Substitute Care Agreement,” “First Aid/Universal Precautions/CPR For Adults, Children and Infants Training Documentation,” “Home Physical Environmental Checklist,” “Consent to Release Criminal History,” another one titled “Release of Information for Criminal History,” and yet another one called an “Application for Criminal History Background Check.”
Yeesh.
Then I drove this great wad of papers across town to the south side, to the once-upon-a-time fancy neighborhood, to a building that used to house a department store, which now is home to the Department of Child Services. Feeling a twinge of worry about the number of times said stack of paper contains both my and my husband’s social security numbers, former addresses, names and birthplaces of all of our parents, grandparents, cousins, and former roommates’ dogs, I asked to borrow a Sharpie from the nice but impatient receptionist at the front desk, and scrawled the name of the appropriate social worker on the envelope, then said a little prayer before I left.
Nice but impatient — you get that reaction a lot if you’re not from around here. In Texas, all you have to do is smile, play the dumb newcomer, say “Yes, Ma’am,” or “Yes, Sir,” and somebody will get up out of their desk chair, lean over the counter and draw you a map. Figuratively or literally. In Indiana, you are completely on your own when jumping through state government hoops. And don’t even try to figure things out via the state websites. What you’ll find is lots and lots of words that don’t actually say anything.
The easiest part of this whole foster care and adoption process for me was the “Family Inventory Questionnaire.” It was at least a break from writing my name and address and social and DL number 85 times. The questionnaire is meant for the social worker to get to know me, and it further helps match a foster child to our family. Maybe it was a reaction to the brain ache, but I gleefully cracked out some long answers on that huge list of probing questions, as if I’m a famous movie star talking to James Lipton on “The Actor’s Studio.” And why not give the social worker something entertaining to read for once?
So, just in case any of you might be thinking of becoming foster-to-adopt parents in Indiana, here’s a sample of the questions you will be asked about your marriage and family, followed by some of my answers:
Q. What was your most memorable experience as a child, both positive and negative?
A. My most positive memorable childhood experience would be going to Michigan for two weeks every summer. Every day I swam with my cousins and lake friends until my skin was pickled and my teeth chattered, and I would run onto the beach, where my mom would wrap me up in my Fonzie beach towel until I was warm. This is about equal to my dad teaching me to fish, and taking me to White Sox games. Third on the list is going garage sale shopping with my Grandma.
My most negative childhood experience was realizing that some of the other kids at school thought I walked funny and I saw them mocking me. That was in about third grade, and it was the first time I realized I didn’t quite fit in.
Q. Were you active in any childhood activities?
A. At church I was in junior choir (against my will) and Calvinettes (like Girl Scouts but churchy). I played Little League softball, and later on, junior high softball. Other than organized activities, I rode my bike all over the place, went swimming often, went rollerskating and spent a lot of time playing with my cousins at their houses and at my Grandma’s house.
Q. What person was most important to you as you were growing up? Who was the most influential? Why?
A. Both my parents were equally important, but my mom was the most supportive and nurturing as I got older, as she was better equipped to help me get through puberty and all the self-esteem issues of that. The most influential would be my Grandma, because she set the example of how to stick up for myself. In church, she let me draw pictures on the backs of the offering envelopes. She was a great cook who raised ten kids on homemade pb&j and cabbage. She didn’t care what anybody thought of her, and she had more friends than anybody I know. She said what she believed to be true and she didn’t take any guff from Grandpa, who can sometimes be a severe and reactionary fellow.
Q. What are your life goals?
A. To write good books and to read better ones; to give something interesting and useful to the world; to be a fun and faithful wife, mother, grandmother, aunt and friend; to be a lifelong learner; to go to Europe and to India; to become successful enough on my own that my husband can quit his job and we can fix up an old house in the woods, where we can live green and grow our own food.
Q. What are your dislikes?
A. Listening to people argue pointlessly about politics and religion; people who force their beliefs on other people; when people fail to pick up after their dogs; lima beans; canned mushrooms.
Q. What does marriage mean to you?
A. I love having someone I can trust no matter what, who is supportive whatever happens, who will tell me the truth, who agrees with me on the important stuff, who is my sounding board, my back-up, the Harry to my Sally, the George to my Gracie, who enjoys life with me, who makes me laugh, who laughs at my jokes, who sees me at my worst and still thinks I’m beautiful, who sees me at my best and is my greatest cheerleader, and who is also legally bound to do all those things.
Q. What do you contribute to your marriage?
A. Fun, sense of humor, patience, cheerfulness, creativity, love, support and pecan pie.
Q. Describe your spouse.
A. Hard worker, good conversationalist, well-read, highly intelligent, liberal worldview, great debater, loving, good with children, doesn’t care one bit about fashion or pop culture.
Q. What are his vulnerabilities?
A. Sometimes doesn’t recognize how awesome he is. Gets grumpy when he’s hungry. Sometimes too picky about how I load the dishwasher. Eyes glaze over when I talk about pop culture or try to get him to dress more hip.
Q. What do you like most about your spouse?
A. That he sometimes gets choked up when he hears or reads a really great story.
Q. What bothers you most about this person?
A. When he corrects my grammar in casual conversations, or reminds me to lock my door when I’m driving the car.
Q. In what ways would you change this person?
A. I would not. Except maybe to get him to stop wearing red with yellow, and to convince him to throw away his black denim shorts from 1985, although I do enjoy arguing with him about it.
Q. If there is a marked age difference, what does this mean to your marriage?
A. Is eight years a marked difference? I don’t know. It does not mean much to me at all. He remembers the “R.A.T. Patrol” TV show, and I do not. I love Beyonce and he can hardly tolerate the slightest sound of hip hop. That’s about it.
Q. If you have experienced infertility in your marriage, how have you been able to accept this fact?
A. We tried to fix it, with marginal results. So we let it be. We have decided to let whatever happens happen and to not intervene with IVF, hormone therapy or turkey basters.
Q. How do you resolve differences in your marriage?
A. After the silent treatment is over, we both apologize. Then we usually end up talking through things while we are driving around or going out. We rarely raise our voices.
And there you have it. That’s about one-eighth of the questions the Husband and I had to answer separately. His answers were a lot more thought out beforehand and less rambling than mine. However, I consider it a point of pride that I managed to reference both Arthur Fonzarelli and Beyonce in my foster care application. Why not have fun while you’re jumping through the hoops?
Now the waiting begins, until we find out when we can expect our home study. In the meantime, there’s the re-arranging of the second bedroom to think about. Outlet covers to buy. A fire extinguisher to hang on the wall. A spaghetti bowl of computer cords to secure. The boring stuff. The stuff that requires patience and niceness and precedes any expectation of shopping for adorable new clothes for the foster baby.
Good thing I married an engineer. Even if he does wear red and yellow together.
Crusty. Crustier than a crabby patty sandwich is how I feel this morning. But sometimes my little front porch makes me feel better, so here’s a picture of it.
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